


No strings attached - just free love

by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)



Category: Bandom, Popslash
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Pool Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-19
Updated: 2008-08-19
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10635645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Draven/pseuds/Ephemera_pop
Summary: Something Like Augustcontinues, and i did have this awesome idea for an icon set, but then I remembered that I have a new computer, which means I no longer have Photoshop, and that, eventually, I'm going to have to scale the learning curve on Gimp. No icons from me for a while, then. So instead I committed fiction, and by fiction I mean 'unleashed the pretty', and voila - 900 words of Joey Fatone/Ray Toro, because - I'm only human, guys.  I mean, really?  Look at them!Extra sparkles toturps33who liked this enough to declare me sane, and help polish it up some. As always, all remaining mistakes are my own, and if you see any, please tell me!  (Title from DM's Freelove, which was playing and seemed very appropriate, somehow.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Something Like August](http://joshysleo.livejournal.com/tag/something+like+august+challenge) continues, and i did have this awesome idea for an icon set, but then I remembered that I have a new computer, which means I no longer have Photoshop, and that, eventually, I'm going to have to scale the learning curve on Gimp. No icons from me for a while, then. So instead I committed fiction, and by fiction I mean 'unleashed the pretty', and voila - 900 words of Joey Fatone/Ray Toro, because - I'm only human, guys. I mean, really? Look at them!
> 
> Extra sparkles to [](http://turps33.livejournal.com/profile)[**turps33**](http://turps33.livejournal.com/) who liked this enough to declare me sane, and help polish it up some. As always, all remaining mistakes are my own, and if you see any, please tell me! (Title from DM's Freelove, which was playing and seemed very appropriate, somehow.)

Ray was totally, really, not even slightly complaining, but honestly? He has no idea how he'd gotten himself into this situation.

Well, knew why he'd come to Florida, and renting a house had seemed pretty logical if he was going to stick around for recording the whole soundtrack. He was even willing to accept a world in which his neighbour down the street was Joey Fatone - Joey from NSync, who Ray mostly remembered as 'that boyband those screamcore guys covered that time', but he still recognised Joey because he wasn't, in fact, living in a cave in 2001.

So his neighbour is Joey Fatone, who invited him over for barbecue to meet about two hundred of Joey's closest friends. Weirder things have happened, right?. Even the part where he'd been having a really intense conversation about Anthrax with a bunch of people for, like, an hour kind of made sense, 'cos, you know, musicians, and crew guys, and it wasn't even like he and Joey weren't similar ages.

Joey's fuck-off shrine to Superman - that was pretty far out. (Ray had made a note to himself to stop and back away from the action figures if he ever hits a point where building a new wing on his house to put them in starts to seem rational.) The collection _was_ pretty awesome, though, and he and Joey had shared this moment when Joey's wife had rolled her eyes and said something about boy's toys and geeks that Ray could have sworn was a direct quote of what Christa said to him about twice a week when he was home, and how the ever-living-hell did things go from grinning like dorks because their wives loved them enough to put up with their comics and shit, to this?

Ray forced back a groan and tightened his fingers in Joey's hair, still wet and slippery from the pool, and tensed his thighs to keep from thrusting, and sent up a prayer of heartfelt thanks for girls who fucking _got it_. The cold, slippery feeling of guilt had no place here, and Ray - shit. Joey did something with his mouth, and Ray lost all his thought processes and had to let go of Joey to use both arms to hold himself up, or he was going to fall flat backwards onto the fake rocks around the grotto pool and break his neck.

The party had started to fade away, late afternoon, but Kelly had insisted that Ray should stick around. Eventually, Joey and him, they'd stripped down to pool shorts and been floating around lazily in the pool on a pair of lilos, cold beer and warm evening sun dancing on the water, and - hell - what had he even said? Maybe something about how people normally just assumed he was the straight one in his band? Ray didn't remember. But he remembered Joey's hand, resting low on his back, a couple of fingers just dipping under the drawstring of Ray's shorts, and the way Joey's eyes had crinkled when he'd said something like 'I know how that goes' and then asked if this was okay, if Christa was okay with it, if Ray was, and something about that earnest openness had just - hell. It'd been too fucking long since he'd been with a guy, someone who matched him for height and heft and could roll them both off their inflatables - the water a cool exhilarating rush - and thought 'race you to the grotto' was a chat up line.

They'd thrashed and splashed, pulling each other back by legs and arms and any other bits they could get hold off, and Joey had won by a handspan, even with Ray's arms wrapped around Joey's waist, near drowning them both, and - who knew? Totally effective line. One that delivered them both, panting and laughing and half hard in a cool, private, space, where they could stand chest-deep and kiss, hands sliding over broad backs and Ray rejoicing in the scratch of Joey's beard.

The same beard that was prickling at his inner thighs now, because Joey was swallowing him down, and how does this happen? How is this his life, that he's about to shoot down a popstar's throat, in a fucking _grotto_ , and later he's going to call Christa , and tell her everything, and sometimes the long distance thing kind of sucks, but the phone sex is always awesome, although maybe not quite as awesome as Joey's mouth working him, and Joey's fingers dragging over his balls, because _Christ_.

Ray tips his head back, and bit into his lower lip, shaking with the effort of trying to trap everything in silence, because he's coming now, fast and hard, and Joey's riding him, swallowing, twisting somehow that's so good it's right over the edge, more than he can handle. Ray curls forward, pushing Joey away clumsily, and somehow his thumb ends up in Joey's mouth, where the slick slide of Joey's tongue sends aftershocks through his system, and when Ray can focus again, Joey is smiling, and it's kind of smug, but it's also kind of just happy. Joey turns his face to press a kiss to Ray's palm, and his beard tickles, and Ray can't help it - he's laughing. It's just so ridiculous, and it's so good, and - just - he has no idea how he got here, but here is pretty fucking incredible.


End file.
